


that's good (because i love you)

by feysund



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Camp Half Blood, F/M, Percy Jackson AU, chb, chb au, childhood BFFs, percabeth, percy jackson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feysund/pseuds/feysund
Summary: Emma Carstairs is twelve years old when she meets Julian Blackthorn, pressed up against the wall of the Hermes cabin.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Julian Blackthorn & Emma Carstairs, Julian Blackthorn/Emma Carstairs, Livia Blackthorn & Tiberius Blackthorn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	that's good (because i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is my first work here, i'm super excited! it's a blackstairs camp half-blood au, combining two of my favorite things.

Emma Carstairs is twelve years old when she meets Julian Blackthorn, pressed up against the wall of the Hermes cabin. 

He’s taken the last clean spot on the floor, huddled next to a group of children even smaller than him as they yammer and speak of trivial things, slowly nodding off to sleep. Julian himself looks like he wants to sleep, too, but is too scared to leave the children unprotected. 

She’s tired, and she’s scared, and so beyond caring that she doesn’t hesitate to plop right next to him despite his glare, coated in annoyance. She smiles, one of those fake, saccharine sweet smiles, and drawls, “Nice to meet you too.” 

Apparently, it wins him over, because he mumbles, "Julian," almost too quiet for her to hear. But she does hear, and sticks out her hand. 

“Emma,” she replies. “Are you—uh, well—is this your cabin or are you like me?” 

“Like me?” he echoes with a hint of confusion. A girl, dressed in black with a sweet round face, presses into him in her sleep. Another girl is laying across a boy’s lap, headphones coiled around his neck. And in Julian’s one lap sits a small baby, his chubby fingers wrapped around Julian’s thumb. 

“My parent isn’t Hermes,” she explains hurriedly. “Well, I don’t know if it is or not. I’ve just arrived today, and have not been—what do they call it?—claimed yet.”

Julian considers this for a moment, almost contemplating whether or not to trust her with this useless piece of information. “Me, too. And my siblings.” He nods at the baby. “Tavvy—Octavian.” To the girl sleeping on him. “Dru.” And lastly, to the pair sleeping. “Livvy and Ty.” 

Emma slides down the wall further. Her smile is almost sad when she says, “It’s good you have your siblings. I assume you are to get more, soon. That's good.” 

Julian starts, as if the idea had never occurred to him. “I guess so.” 

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"'That's good'."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Suddenly, a horn blares. Emma was told on her tour that this is the dinner bell, and they are to sit with their siblings, but Emma doesn’t know who her siblings are. She clutches the gold sword, Cortana, that Jia Penhallow gave her at the weapons shed. 

Slowly, Julian wakes his siblings, who, all but Tavvy, tumble out the door one by one. Emma and Julian follow, clutching at Tavvy as if someone were to come and take him away.  
At dinner, Julian wishes a large stack of pancakes onto his enchanted plate, and Emma does the same. She’s pouring an offensive amount of syrup on her pancakes, smearing it with her fork, when she sees it. Slack jawed, she stares at Julian, motioning over his head. 

“Jules, you—“

“Emma,” he says, looking over at her head. “What is that?” 

All noise stops. Finally, Jia Penhallow drops to a kneel and announces, one after the other:  
Hail, Julian Blackthorn, son of Hades.  
Hail, Drusilla Blackthorn, daughter of Hades.  
Hail, Livia Blackthorn, daughter of Hermes.  
Hail, Tiberius Blackthorn, son of Athena.  
Hail, Emma Carstairs, daughter of Ares. 

Tavvy is the only one who remains.  
Emma can’t help it. She turns and runs. 

When Emma is fourteen, she meets her dad for the first time.

She's clutching Julian's hand, staring at the Olympian ring of thrones. Julian's pressing a bandage against the wound on her stomach to staunch the bleeding, standing impossibly close to her. Tavvy and Dru are downstairs, waiting with Diana Wrayburn. On Julian's left side, Livvy and Ty stand, Livvy's pinky wrapped around Ty's. The Battle of Manhattan was bloody and terrifying and he's just glad they made it out. 

"Tiberius Blackthorn," Athena booms. "Please come forward. Alone," she adds, with a glance at Livvy. But Livvy shakes her head, and goes with Ty. She won't let go.

"Strength bows to wisdom," she announces. "Tiberius Blackthorn has showed wisdom beyond my expectations. Good job, boy."

But Hermes is kinder. He flies over, ruffling Livvy's hair, and telling her, "Good job kid! Those exploding traps? Amazing!" But Livvy is only looking at Ty, running her fingers of his hand and adjusting his headphones. Together, they step back into line. Julian bite backs his smile.

"Emma Carstairs," Ares says. Everyone knows Emma was the hero of the battle. She cut through hordes and hordes of monsters, made it all the way to Malolm, the Titan who started it all. 

And she ran Cortana through him, and ended it.

Ares continued, with a head jerk towards Julian, "A warrior does not love the way you do. You are no child of mine."

Emma feels the tears welling up in her throat, but bites back a remark. Instead, she holds her head up high. "Love is what makes me a warrior. And If I have to give that up, I do not wish to be a child of yours."

She doesn't care about the anger of the gods, or the repercussions. She runs, flying to the elevator and pressing the button angrily. The tears come, and they don't stop. She hiccups and sobs and falls to the floor of the elevator. 

It's closing when a hand comes through. 

Of course, it's Julian, it's always Julian.

"Ems," he gasps, and falls to the floor, pulling her into his lap. "You know you were the hero."

"I wanted him to be proud," she sobs. "I don't know why. I don't. But I did, and I'll never be like Jace, or--"

"He actually said the same thing to Jace when Jace fell for Clary."

Emma, a little disgustingly, wipes snot from her nose. "That's good."

"That's good."

She’s fifteen the first time it almost happens. 

“Gods, Jules!” Emma exclaims, holding Cortana over her head. “Stop that!” 

Julian smirks, lunging at her with a blade made of pure black. Laughing, Emma ducks, sliding and taking out Julian’s feet from under him. They topple to the ground of the training arena, side by side, laughing and covered in sweat. 

“I totally won,” Emma declares, later that day, sitting on a dock by the lake.

“No. Way,” Julian argues, running his fingers over the water. “I kicked your ass.” 

“Gods, you wish!” 

Emma turns to him, laughing. It’s almost time for Capture the Flag, but she hasn’t put her hair up yet. It’s almost glowing, like the small bushels of wheat the Demeter kids have in their cabin. And Jules is looking at her, too. He’s staring at her, quite intently, with those blue-green eyes, if she’s a map in a language he cannot understand. Which is ridiculous, because Julian Blackthorn as always understood Emma Carstairs. 

Julian clears his throat. “Ares and Hades are together tonight.” 

“Hades?” Emma teases, poking at her side. “You mean you and Dru? That's good, though.” 

It’s true that there are no Hades kids beyond Julian and Drusilla. At first, it was a shock that he was not one hundred percent related to Livvy, Ty, and Tavvy. But blood didn’t change love, and he continued to love them. 

“That's good," he says before, "Well,” he shoots back, “at least my siblings aren’t hooligans.” 

“Oh, come on. The Ares kids aren’t that bad.” 

“Your brother Jace is absolutely terrifying.” 

“Some would say that about you and Dru.” 

“Yeah, well,” he concedes. After a short moment of silence, he starts, “Em, I—“

But then Livvy, all gangly limbs and sliding socks—where are her shoes?—comes barreling in, screaming, “Capture the Flag time!” before running away, and Julian never gets to say what he wants to say before Emma is dragging him away to the forest, and his words are caught in his throat. 

He knows boys and girls are not allowed to be in cabins alone with each other. 

He knows this, and yet, as soon as Emma is discharged from the infirmary, he’s dragging her to the Hades cabin, laying her down in the bed, despite her protests.  
The ambrosia has done it’s job, mostly, but the headache she’s been complaining about still rages. Monster dust covers Cortana, but at least the bleeding from her head and thigh has long stopped. Sighing, Julian settles on the bed next to her, both of them on their backs, almost touching. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling. 

“Emma,” he says, which is the first thing he’s said since the incident. “What the fuck.” 

“What the fuck what?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“I protect you,” she whispered. “You protect your siblings, and I protect you.”

“I protect you, too.”

“That's good,” Emma mumbles. 

“I’m serious.” Julian turns to her, watching her as she stares that the ceiling. “I will always, always protect you. I can’t handle it when you—when you put yourself in danger like that. Especially not for me.” 

Emma tries to shove down her anger. She’s always angry, these days. Always burning, always glaring. Julian is afraid she’ll be snuffed out, like one of those green apple candles she loves so much. She's been so angry since she talked to her dad.

“Not for you? Jules, you’re everything to me.” 

“You're everything to me, too. So I need you not to put yourself in danger.” 

“You would do the same,” she protests. 

“I can’t handle it! Because—“

“Because what?” 

“Because I love you!” 

But Emma doesn’t seem to get it. She smiles, turns on her side, and whispers, “ That's good. You’re my best friend. I love you too.” 

"That's good."

Julian sits on the food of his bed while she sleeps in it. 

He does not go to dinner, nor to the lava wall. 

Where Emma goes, he will go. 

Except, sometimes she doesn’t allow him to go. 

She’s sixteen when she goes on her first quest. Of course, Julian is the obvious choice for her companion. At least, that’s what he thinks. 

Apparently, he’s entirely wrong. 

Emma selects Cristina Rosales, a Demeter kid with two french braids, and Clary Fairchild, an Apollo kid with a celestial bronze sword strapped to her hip.  
She’s packing away things in her cabin, talking excitedly with quest-veteran and brother Jace Herondale. He’s stuffing things into her backpack: extra ambrosia, brightly colored orange t-shirts, an extra dagger or two. One of her sisters is handing her hair ties and deodorant and other things. Awkwardly—gods, he’s never felt awkward around Emma before—Julian clears his throat. 

Emma startles, looking around until her eyes fall on Julian. “Jules!” she exclaims, bounding over and throwing herself into his arms. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Julian separates himself from her. “Yeah, well...” 

Sensing his discomfort, Emma pulls him out of the Ares cabin. “What’s wrong?” 

“You— nothing. Are Cristina and Clary ready?” 

Emma’s eyes widen as the realization hits her. “You’re mad I didn’t ask you.” 

“Of course I’m mad you didn’t ask me!” he exclaims. His stygian iron sword glimmers at his hip. Through all the anger, he looks exactly like the typical child of Hades. But Emma’s not scared, she could never be scared, not of her Jules. “Where you go, I go.” 

“But—“ Emma swallows the lump in her throat, grabbing for his hands. “Where Livvy and Tavvy and Ty and Dru go, you also go.” 

Julian halts. “Well, yes—“

“I didn’t think you’d want to be away from them for an uncertain amount of time.” 

“I don’t,” Julian admits. He feels a little stupid now. 

“Okay, so, we’re good? I can’t leave if we’re not good.” 

Horrible as it makes him, Julian hesitates. He’s tempted to say, no, they’re not good, you can’t leave because we’re not good, even though they are.  
He wants her to stay. 

"That's good. We're good."

Emma’s brown eyes are fixed on him, like he’s the only thing in the world. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, lips pressed together.  
Emma takes a step forward. It’s almost like she’s going to—

“Emma!” Clary calls from the volleyball pit. “You ready?” 

Emma nods, and the moment of over. She calls that she’ll be there in a second, and that’s that and she’s gone and Julian doesn’t know when he’ll see her again.  
He knows he’s being ridiculous, no one has died on a quest in ages, and Emma is more than capable. But there’s some part of him that belongs to her—a big part of him—and he feels it go to with her past the old pine tree, and into the mortal world. 

It’s only three weeks later when Emma comes back. 

She trudges up Half-Blood Hill, covered in blood and sweat and still clutching Cortana in her cut up hands. She doesn’t stop for Kit, who rounds the corner with Livvy and Ty, holding a volleyball under his arm. She doesn’t stop for Diana, who wants to know how the quest went. She doesn’t stop for Jace, who, in his big brother way, wants to know how her quest went but quickly loses interest as he sees Clary, or Drusilla who’s climbing the lava wall. 

All she does is stalk over to the training ring, where she knows Julian will be: and she’s right. He’s in the ring, swinging his black sword with their trainer, Magnus. Alec, an Apollo kid, is standing in the corner twiddling with the arrow. 

“Julian!” she shouts over the clang of swords. “Come down here. Now.” 

“Emma?” he asks, as if she can’t quite believe it. As Julian drops his sword, Emma tosses Cortana away. Obviously tired, Julian slips between the ropes of the ring and stalks over to him. “Gods, Emma, you’re back? Did you get it? I heard the fleece is—“

“Shut up,” she says. 

“What the hell? Emma, I was so worried about you. What’s wrong with you? Is that blood? That’s blooding dripping down your fucking forehead! Alec!” 

“No, Alec,” Emma yells. “No need.” 

He slips the material of her camp shirt between his fingers. “Are—“

And Emma can’t take it anymore.

He’s all she thinks about. She’s battling monsters and thinking about Julian. She’s sleeping and thinking about Julian. She’s wrapping Clary’s wound and thinking about Julian. She’s watching Cristina throw seeds at monsters from Tartarus, and she’s thinking about Julian. 

She kisses him. 

She kisses him hard and fast, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him.

But he doesn’t respond. She must’ve read it all wrong: the worrying, the touches, the sleeping. Embarrassed, she takes a step backward. 

Or, at least, attempts to. 

Julian catches her at her waist, his hands callused from training and his brown curls falling into his forehead. And there’s this stupid, loopy smile on his face, as if he’s won the lottery but can’t quite believe it—which honestly, he did and he can’t—and he’s drawing Emma back in, and Magnus is making odd noises in the background, and someone is screaming as they fall off the lava wall, but all Emma can feel is Julian, and Julian hands on her waist, and Julian’s lips on hers, and Jules, Julian, Julian. 

And when he finally lets go, Emma’s not ready. She pulls him back in, but he laughs and pulls away again. Gently, he tucks the hair that’s fallen from her braid behind her ear. 

“Emma,” he breathes. “My Emma.” 

“I missed you, Julian. And you were all I thought about and I thought and thought and thought and— I love you.” 

“Well,” he smiles, one of those wide smiles that’s so rare she almost takes a step back. “That’s good. Because I love you.” 

“Well,” Emma giggles, thinking about a twelve year old girl sliding against the wall of the Hermes cabin and a gaggle of children next to an exhausted boy. “That’s good.”


End file.
